by Angel Payne
“So all their vital signs are within normal, with the exception of the one?” Stock asked it as he scrutinized a clipboard full of pages.
“Affirmative,” the soldier answered in a thick Spanish accent. “We’ve ventilated him for now. He may pull through with that extra help.”
Tait called on every ounce of his training to keep his breaths quiet and even. Ventilated who, goddamnit? And what did he mean by “may pull through?” Dealing with the death of a battalion mate was a disgusting part of this job, but when it came from being senselessly gassed in the name of terrorism, he had a serious fucking problem with activating the healthy coping thing.
“All right,” Stock replied, “keep me posted. If our demands for safe passage out of the country aren’t met, that may be a ventilator we decide we don’t need.”
“Understood.”
He grinded down a layer of tooth enamel as he clenched his jaw. The monster was asking for a forty caliber “decision” in his skull right now. Dial it back, T-Bomb. There’s still a second laptop out there, getting prepped for God-knows what kind of fuckery thanks to this traitor.
“Did the missing one show up yet?” Stock prodded. “Our friend Sergeant Bommer?”
“Negative,” the soldier supplied. “The team’s rental van isn’t in the lot, either. We are following up on your guess that he’s involved with the special agent, Ms. Lawrence, and that they may be together. Her car is in the parking lot at the agency’s building but she doesn’t answer her desk line or her cell phone. We have three men watching the entrances and exits.”
Stock’s face hardened. It wasn’t a scowl, merely an impassive look that reminded Tait of how his Uncle Jonah appeared whenever they went out hunting and the man pondered how to outwit a cunning whitetail. On the director’s all-American features, it was a chilling visage. “What about her apartment?”
“Classified information. She’s on a special task force, right?”
“Right. I don’t know a lot about her, except that her undercover skills are exceptional.” One side of the man’s mouth quirked up. “Too bad. In a different world, I could hire her for the show. Probably much easier to direct than that plastic fish who calls herself my leading lady.”
“Well, her apartment is registered under another name. It will take us a while to hack the proper channels into the CIA’s database and get the address.”
“Fine, fine. Hop on it as soon as you get it. In the meantime, track the van through the rental company.”
“Yes, sir.”
The soldier said it as they rolled out what looked like the last stretcher. They’d laid the guy’s arm across the blanket as if wanting to make it look like a rescue instead of an abduction, and Tait knew by the sleeve of pirate-themed tattoos that it was Rebel. He swallowed his fury and sorrow in time to glance over at the perimeter the hotel staff was now taping off around the atrium. Shit. That was exactly what Stock had done, staging this thing as some kind of abnormal chemical spill.
Somebody started up the big bus. As the motor revved to life, Tait took advantage of Stock’s temporary distraction to sneak his way back to Luna. Without wasting time for words, he scooped her up by a hand and raced back to the van.
“Where are they headed?” she charged as he flipped the ignition.
“Don’t know.” The words bit at his mouth like acid.
“So we’re following them?”
“No.” Now it was acid stirred with thumbtacks. “They’re going to put a trace on the car through the rental company. We’ll need to ditch it. They’re looking for loose ends right now, and I’m the biggest item on that list.” He left the car in neutral for a moment longer, swinging a rueful stare her way. “They’ve also figured out I’m a little sweet on you, flower.”
She lifted the generous curves of her lips at him. “Nothing I can’t handle, wizard boy.”
Though he tied back the physical urge to kiss her, he let her read the intent in his eyes. The next second, hard logistics dictated his words again. “They’re watching your car and your office, and it’ll only be a matter of time before they find your apartment address. Luna,” —he reached for her hand, feeling solemnity wash over his face— “who else knows your Wonder Woman origin story? Is there anyone at LA’s CIA or FBI besides Colton who knows where you really came from? And more importantly, about the tracking chip in your neck?”
She went still. He didn’t blame her for the shock, or the fresh fear that glittered in her eyes. “I—I don’t think so,” she replied.
“Good. We’ll hope that stays the case, because I’m not letting you out of my sight.”
Her response might as well have been a wallop with a two-by-four. Nevertheless, he wouldn’t have traded the gentle touch she lifted to his face for anything. “And I’m not letting you out of mine.”
He luxuriated in one more moment of elation before letting desperation crash in again. As he turned and watched the “medical bus” leave the hotel with red lights whirling and siren blaring, he whacked a hand on the steering wheel. “We need a fucking plan,” he snarled. “Trouble is, I don’t have one.”
For the second time in as many minutes, Luna’s calm fingers, now on his hunched shoulder, pulled him back to sanity. “I do, Weasley.”
* * * * *
If his stress level wasn’t pegging its needle in the red right now, he would have a serious boner of appreciation for what this woman called a plan.
The luxury condo, located on the top floor of a tower in Wilshire Boulevard’s swankiest section, was pulled from a damn movie. The sprawling granite kitchen had a fully stocked pantry of nonperishables and a wet bar that rotated with a button push. Two bedrooms contained plush California-king beds piled high with pillows in gray, red, and black. In the bathroom, there were at least three ways to get clean, including a glass stall shower, whirlpool tub, and a eucalyptus “wet room,” whatever the hell that was.
But the real shit that was worth the hard-on was the audio and video systems in the living room. Tait ran a hand along the sixteen-channel mixer, the sleek spheres of the Cabasse speakers, along the ledge beneath the massive image monitor, and struggled to muster at least one “holy shit” of reverence.
Wasn’t happening. All he could think about were his teammates, being locked and loaded into a phony medical transport, bound for God knew where.
The acid and thumbtack cocktail coursed through his whole body now. He paced, trying to escape it and chase it at once. Frustration pounded at his brain. Restlessness clawed his limbs.
“I found some soup,” Luna called from the kitchen. “There might be crackers in here, too. I know it’s only seven in the morning but you have to eat something.”
He stopped only to dash off a burning glare. “I need to find my teammates. I need a goddamn phone.”
She huffed. “I guarantee you that Stock’s boys had your phone thirty minutes ago and are scouring the SIM card as we speak. Making you toss it into the riverbed was one of the best decisions I’ve made all day.”
He increased his pacing route to include a loop around the couch. That made it easier to slam a frustrated palm against the long marble bar that separated them. “Right up there with making me ditch the van for a Fiat then telling me to circle the block six times before pulling in here?”
The woman braced hands to her black denim-covered hips. “The backup car was Dan’s choice, not mine, and you sure as hell weren’t minding its speed on the curves so I’d seal the hole on that one, soldier. As for the ring-around-the-rosy, my first instinct was to go for ten rounds but I was feeling generous. You got off easy. Now thank me.”
He wanted to maintain his glare but it was damn hard when she stood there looking so bossy and sexy. “You’re lucky I like you.” Grudgingly, he added, “Thanks, Mamma Mercy.”
“Anytime, Daddy Grump.”
He halted as he cleared the couch for the third time and stared over the cityscape that stretched for miles. Everything was brilliant in the midmorni
ng sunshine, another golden LA day. “What is this place, anyway? This is too nice to be a safe house.”
“But in a way, it is.” She stepped out of the kitchen and hitched a hip on the edge of the couch. “As you probably already know, Dan’s sister is Secret Service. But the ultra-down-low is that she moonlights on ‘unique’ assignments from time to time, likely CIA Special Activities Division stuff.”
“Hmm.” It was a speculative grunt. “Wonder if I’ve met her.”
“Maybe.” She shrugged out of the bolero-style leather jacket she’d had on, which covered a pale pink tank top. The color, lighter than the deep reds and purples she usually wore, lent her skin a glow he’d never noticed before. “Anyhow, Dan is convinced she’s going to be in a situation someday requiring her to ‘disappear’ for a while, so he used a chunk of his stock dividends to buy this crib and make it nearly invisible, at least electronically, to the outside world.”
He turned fully toward her, drawn by curiosity. “Stock dividends?”
She tilted her head and flashed a little smile. “Colton Steel? Maybe you’ve heard of it?”
“Fuck,” he muttered. “Uhhh, yeah. If he’s one of those Coltons, why is he running around in bad suits, a worse haircut, and collecting a spook’s pizzly paycheck?”
“Same reason they found Prince Harry on the front lines in Afghanistan. Believe it or not, a few of the privileged remember why they have such good fortune and want to give back.”
There was a hassock near the couch. He straddled it as he asked, “Is that the same story for his sister, too?”
“Oh, no.” Her lips took on an amused slant. “Devyn just fancies herself as a keen little mix of Nancy Drew, Sydney Bristow, and Lara Croft, and wants to eat bad guys for breakfast every morning, no matter what it does to her big brother’s blood pressure.”
He rolled his shoulders, battling the distinct green pang that joined the tumult of his senses. It didn’t mean anything that she knew all that about Colton’s sister. It also didn’t mean anything that every time she said the guy’s name, the silk in her voice wrapped possessively around the syllable. Dan. Shit. He wasn’t imagining it. Come here and cuddle with me, Dan. Will you zip up my dress, Dan?
“So how do you know about this place?” He tried to be civil about it. He probably didn’t succeed. If Luna noticed, she bypassed it.
“As soon as Dan’s team linked up with mine last week, he told me he was worried about the shit getting thick with Lor. He was also concerned that as the ‘unconventional’ agent, I had a place to go that was completely safe. Off the books, you know? He brought me up here and made me memorize the security codes, ‘just in case.’”
“Didn’t that work out hunky dory?”
He hated himself the moment it flew out. Jealousy was an item on his useless indulgences list, something he sure as fuck didn’t have time for, especially now. But even thinking of Colton in here alone with Luna just a week ago flicked that needle of tension deep back into his mental red zone.
Goddamnit, she was his.
He’d planned on standing and moving out to the terrace for some air. Fuck if that was happening now, with that thought locking his brain in its crosshairs. As if he had a choice to escape it. As if he could run from that chamber in his soul that the woman had occupied from the moment he’d held her in his lap all those months ago at Bastille and again in that palm grove a few miles away. The woman she’d showed only to him. The tender girl who hurt and ached, who cried for Mexican informants she’d never met and had a touch that turned his cocky-ass attitude into a smitten puppy at her feet.
He was certain if the woman had a newspaper with which to smack him right now, she would. With hands back on her hips and a new glower on her face, she charged, “What the hell is that supposed to mean?”
“Nothing.” He looked away. “Nothing, okay?” Everything. Tension rushed his veins again, forcing him to his feet. The room swam and he didn’t care. It wasn’t like he had anything to be solid for. “Goddamnit.” He raised both fists and pounded the slider to the patio. Even the fucking glass wouldn’t cooperate, only shuddering beneath the blow instead of joining his spirit in the whole shattering-to-pieces thing. “They’re all out there, being held somewhere, and I’m sitting here in a palace instead of helping them!”
Luna’s reply was filled with maddening calm. “You can’t do anything to help them with those assholes stomping through the city searching for us.” The crunch of her leather boots came closer. “You told me that Lor and Stock plan on using the guys as leverage for passage out of the country. They can’t do that with dead people, okay? Based on what Ethan told me this morning, everything indicates that their plan is somehow connected to the show’s live broadcast tomorrow night. That gives us tonight to try and figure all this out.” She curled her hands, long and gentle and tapered, around the fists he still had clenched at his sides. “And we will figure it out, Weasley.”
He shook with the effort of resisting her. Clinging to his rage was the last thing he had any control over in this giant goat fuck of a situation. “I can’t stand this,” he grated. “I need to be doing something. I’m a spotter for one of the best goddamn snipers in the world and right now he’s been turned into a half-dead Sleeping Beauty who needs me to find him, wake his ass up and—”
“I know.” She stepped in front of him. “I know.” She ran her hands up his arms and over his shoulders until flattening them to the sides of his face. “Look at me, Tait.”
He stiffened his jaw and shut his eyes.
No.
“Look. At. Me.”
No!
He hated her for this. Hated that this was the one damn moment he’d been craving for the last week, except for now. He hated her for the velvet compassion in her words, the soft strength in her fingers. He really hated her for stepping in with such surety, daring him to fill his arms with her. She was so close. Her scent, that heady clash of smoke and roses, wrapped around him. Her hands, steady and determined, moved up to burrow in his hair.
Her lips, perfect and pleading, grazed his.
“Then just take me,” she whispered.
It was so simple, like the tiny thread that yanked the whole sweater apart. And damn, did he unravel for her. He plunged his mouth on hers in a fever of need, lust, longing. When she opened for him, whimpering in passion, he pushed his tongue deep inside, demanding every flicker of the desire he’d seen in full bloom when monitoring the scene between her and Z those many months ago. He wanted all of it and more. Not just her submission, but her desire. Not just her body, but her mind. Not just her spark, but her whole damn fire. It was nothing less than what she’d get from him in return.
The resolve surged through him, powering into his arms as he hauled her off her feet. Her gaze, dark and magnetic, was waiting when he opened his eyes. She smiled and cupped a hand to his face again, like some medieval princess thanking her knight for sweeping her from a dark tower. Didn’t she get it? She’d rescued him…
And now freely offered up all that power back to him. She knew he needed something to control right now, and offered herself as that something.
He twisted his head to kiss her fingers. Like no other woman in his life, she moved him. Humbled him. And turned him on so much, he wondered if he’d get them to the bedroom without coming in his jeans.
Thankfully, he managed the feat. After stomping into the nearest chamber, he turned and let her fall to the mattress, following her down a second later. He didn’t give her a choice about what came next. Holding her jaw in one of his hands, he leveraged her for the deepest dive of his lips and tongue, possessing her mouth with the force of his. He didn’t let her go until she all but churned beneath him, bunching her hands in his shirt, mewling and sighing.
He yanked the cotton free from his torso and grunted in pleasure as she trailed her fingers over his burning skin. That didn’t stop him from making her bend both knees so he could rip down the zippers on her boots and jerk both things off.
As soon as he had her feet bared, he bit into the edge of one, then the other, making Luna laugh and sigh in the same breath. He let her legs fall as he kneaded his way from her knees to her waist then made short work of unfastening her jeans but not removing them. It had been his intent, but he wasn’t opposed to switching a mission plan for good cause. And right now, the sight of her lace-trimmed, powder-pink panties, contrasted by her black jeans, was too incredible to pass up. He jerked her pants wider to get a more complete view. Goddamn. Through the semi-sheer fabric, he could see the shadow of her close-trimmed pubic patch…a dark treasure veiled behind a color of innocence. He was going to claim that fortune soon, so soon…
But first, the thrill of getting to the bounty.
He caught one of her hands. Lowered it to the sweet triangle that captivated him so much. “Touch yourself,” he ordered. “Put your hand under your panties and stroke your pussy for me. Make yourself wet for my cock.”
“Yes, Sir.”
Fuck, that sounded good on her lips. It was even better because it was meant for him. Tait let out a long growl, telling her how much she’d pleased him with her trust, her vulnerability, and the courage it took to perform such an intimate act for his eyes. He watched, hands on her hips, as she slipped her fingers inside the pink covering and found her sensitive hub of nerves. As she rubbed, her head fell back, her neck strained, her body writhed. Tait’s ass clenched as his hips jerked forward from pure instinct, his body drawn to merge with hers.
Merge? Screw that. Goddamnit, he wanted to fuck this woman. In fifteen different ways. With her wild tigress screams filling the air as he did.
As the conclusion rocked his mind, it shocked him that his dick didn’t laser-blast its way out of his pants. He feverishly worked the button and zipper in order to save the denim and his sanity, groaning hard as his erection sprang free. He shoved the pants and his briefs to his knees before returning a hand to fist himself, loving the reaction in Luna’s eyes as he spread his precum down the length of his throbbing shaft.
